


hippotherapy

by Fictionalistic



Series: Supergirl & Comet (& friends) [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Equestrian, F/F, Gen, Horseback Riding, Horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:50:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalistic/pseuds/Fictionalistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Maxwell Lord’s experiments results in a super-powered horse. Of course, Kara’s going to want to keep Comet. Super-powered beings have to stick together, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	hippotherapy

**Author's Note:**

> No, Comet is not anything like the comic Comet. He's just an ordinary horse who fell into the hands of Maxwell Lord and was experimented on possibly when Lord was high or something?

It’s a damn good thing that Agent Vasquez - Susan, she tells Kara to call her, at least while outside the DEO - is a rider. Kara doesn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t have Susan’s knowledge and experience to fall back on. Rao knows she doesn’t know what to do with a normal horse, let alone one with _powers_. 

The DEO doesn’t leave much time for hobbies, but when she can, Susan drives out to her aunt’s ranch (which can hardly be called that, but it sounds better than “ten-horse barn with a barely serviceable arena”) to do some leisurely trail riding. In her youth, she’d dabbled in everything from barrel racing to vaulting, but these days, she tells Kara with a knowing look in her eyes, she values the luxury of not having to prove herself to anyone. 

Kara ventures a small smile. It’s different to be around Agent - no, Susan - like this. It’s not just the casual clothing and the way her face is more open, more expressive, but the ease with which she takes to teaching Kara, like Kara’s just another student bitten by the horse bug. And this time, she won’t have to worry about being anything other than what she is. 

She’s almost grateful to Maxwell Lord for this unique situation. _Almost_. 

 

* * *

 

 

“See that round rubber thing with the spiky nubs? It’s called a curry comb, and you run it in a circular motion over the horse’s body.” 

Kara picks out the grooming tool from the disorganized tack box, squeezing it experimentally, but perhaps a little too hard because a nub half-way breaks off. “Er.” She makes a solid attempt to fix it, but only results in breaking off another nub.  

Susan’s gone to fetch a scraggly-looking grey gelding from his stall. Comet, enhanced super strength and ability to fly aside, is like any other horse, easily tempted by food. He lets Susan halter him without protest, munching contentedly on the carrot bits she’d offered him. She leads him out to the cross-ties where he stands obliging for Susan to clip the ties to his halter. 

For a super horse, Comet is certainly ordinary enough, in both appearance and behavior. And it appears that before Maxwell Lord got his hands on him, Comet had received a solid background in ground manners. Susan pats him solidly on the neck, wincing a bit when the palm of her hand stings from the impact with what feels like a brick wall - okay, maybe not _that_ ordinary.

Kara’s long stopped trying to “fix” the curry comb, and holds it out to Susan with a sheepish smile. 

Susan shakes her head. “You try it.”

When Kara hesitates, Susan adds kindly, “You won’t hurt him. He’ll let you know if you do, but considering he’s built like, well, you...”

Kara starts out tentatively with small, gentle circles that barely ruffle Comet’s long, shaggy coat. When Comet does nothing more than heave a sigh and sneeze, she feels confident enough to actually put a little elbow into the grooming motion. 

Soon, she’s happily rubbing the curry comb all along Comet’s back, concern about Comet’s well-being slowly ebbing away. She ventures a little scratch along his withers with her fingernails, and she giggles when Comet stretches his neck out and sighs in contentment (or drowsiness, Kara can’t tell quite yet).

It’s soothing. There’s nothing but the repetitive motions of currying and brushing, the periodic shuffle of Comet’s hind legs as he shifts his weight from hip to hip, soft whuffs from the black mare curiously watching them from a nearby stall, piercing whinnies from the especially vocal piebald pacing in the round pen, and the nearby sound of Susan swearing softly under her breath as she struggles to get her tack clean. 

Kara’s senses are wholly focused on touch, on being able to do this one mundane task without worrying about toning down her strength. She can bury her hands in Comet’s surprisingly silky coat and curl her fingers without tearing out chunks of flesh. She can wrap her arms around Comet’s neck and _squeeze_ with all she’s worth. There’s no audible snap of breaking bones. She can’t hurt him with her carelessness. 

If Susan hears watery sniffling muffled by a horse’s mane - a very recognizable sound in these parts - she doesn’t mention it. 

 

* * *

 

 

Riding is so much harder than Kara had expected. 

“Stop hovering!”

Kara groans, letting herself settle back into the saddle. She’d thought floating would _help_ her riding, not hinder it...

She looks over at the person she’d least expected to contribute to her riding education. 

Carter, from his perch atop the arena fence, wrinkles his nose at her in such a Cat-like way, Kara can’t help but smile. “You’re,” he starts haltingly, but he continues when it appears Kara is open to his input. “You’re not doing Comet any favors by messing up his rhythm.” 

Kara frowns. She hadn’t thought she was changing anything except not sitting down fully on the downbeat of her post. Surely, that would be more comfortable for Comet, wouldn’t it? 

“It’s _your_ responsibility to tell Comet what you want. If you don’t do anything, he won’t know what you’re asking for. And he doesn’t speak English - or...?” Kara shakes her head. “Okay, no human language for the super horse. So that means you have to communicate with him through your body. And if you never let yourself sit on him, the conversation is - not a conversation at all, really.”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Kara grins at the kid’s abashed face. 

“I - I know.” There’s the barest hint of pride in his voice, like self-doubt has been slowly eroded over the years into a tentative confidence. Carter’s growing up, growing into his own, and Kara feels privileged to be able to witness it and be a part of his life. “Try again.”

And Kara tries. She lets herself sit down fully before rising in the posting trot, and the little frisson of fear she’d had about hurting Comet fizzles away when he trots on with little fuss. Rise, sit, rise, sit. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine.

“Better,” Carter calls out as Kara and Comet make their way to the far end of the arena. 

Susan, watching from afar, quirks a smile. Comet’s a babysitter horse - safe enough for a sedate, shuffling walk and trot without much supervision - but with some work (mostly on Kara’s part), they could really be a lovely pair. 

 

* * *

 

 

Supergirl is away for a week, aiding her cousin and his friends on the West Coast. 

Cat tries not to huff in indignation when the only message she receives from Kara is a plea to check in on her... nag. There’s a quiet, affectionate slur of words at the end of her message that starts with “I...” but Cat can’t make out the words. Which is perhaps for the best because she’s not sure she’s ready to make sense of what they might be yet. 

She visits the Vasquez Ranch (can it be truly called that? _really_?) with Carter in tow. The ever-present dust and dirt swirling around the driveway are sure to cake her car in a solid layer of filth by the time they leave, but she refrains from saying anything when she sees how excited Carter is. She’s dropped him off here before to spend time with Kara, but she’s only stayed long enough to watch Carter make his way up to the barn and maybe catch a glimpse of Kara as she greets him, a wide grin splitting her cheerful face. 

This time, she steps out of the car and marches her way into the barn, striding purposefully through the aisle with Carter at her side. 

“Here, mom!” Carter’s stopped at a stall, a large pink horse nose poking out through the bars and snuffling at his shirt. “This is Comet, Kara’s horse.”

Comet is not terribly _pretty_ , as horses go. Cat runs her eyes over his large, hulking form, making note of the pronounced ewe neck and blocky head. His coat is grey, mottled with flecks of red and brown hair - or was that just dirt? 

She stands away from the searching muzzle and lets Carter scramble his way into the stall, ducking under the stall guards with practiced ease. She can’t help but tense in worry when she sees her son next to Comet. Kara and that agent-who-was-not-Kara’s-sister (Susan Vasquez, of _course_ , she knows because Carter told her and she’s not one to ignore her child) had instructed Carter on how to interact with the super powered horse, but still... That overly large excuse for a dalmatian could accidentally set a hoof upon Carter’s foot and crush his bones into powder. 

“Come here, mom. Meet him!” 

Cat steps uncertainly toward the open stall. Comet pokes his head out and stares at her curiously. They stare at each other, neither of them moving. 

“Um.” Carter’s hiding a grin behind his hand. “If you two are done sizing each other up, I’m going to get his brushes and stuff.”

After he ducks back out and trots off to rummage through Kara’s tack locker for the grooming tools, Cat takes several steps forward toward Comet, stopping short of his reaching muzzle. She eyes his unassuming face and purses her lips. “You.”

Comet snorts.

“Yes, _you_. You set one hoof wrong, and-- hey!” Comet’s leaned heavily into the stall guards (Kryptonite-infused, no less), stretching into that extra few inches in order to reach Cat. He nuzzles her shoulder, lips flopping comically. Cat represses a cringe when she sees horse slobber and snot dribble down her silk sleeve. 

He’s gentle, though. She can recognize that, mostly from the fact that he’s in the position to push her over with one nudge of his nose, and he hasn’t. He just softly rubs the side of his face against her arm, begging for scratches with his large, liquid eyes. Just a big puppy. A large, super-powered, potentially deadly puppy. Hm, who did _that_ remind her of?

She lifts a hand to pet the length of his face, fingers lingering on the impossibly soft velvet of his nose. 

“Mom!”

Cat quickly steps away, absently brushing at her ruined sleeve, and feigns boredom. Carter eyes her dirty shirt with quiet amusement, but says nothing. 

Comet is... acceptable. For now, she supposes. 


End file.
